


Pay You Back

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Stomach Bulge, cuddly sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: Cronus has been distant recently. Which is fine, of course, it happens. But you've missed him, so you hardly complain when he offers to "pay you back" for being away so long.





	Pay You Back

**Author's Note:**

> this was a fun commission tbh

You’re always shocked at how much colder he feels than you, under your hands and against your chest, even through layers of clothes. Just having Cronus, overly affectionate tonight for reasons you can’t parse, since he’s been distant. Not to say you mind, of course, and when you pet a hand through his hair he doesn’t even complain, just shuffles up to kiss your cheek with a grin.

“I missed you, Darkleer.” He purrs, arms braced on either side of you. “Sorry I didn’t keep in touch, babe.”

Before you can reassure him that it’s perfectly fine, him being your better anyway, he kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and slotting his hips up against yours. He bites your lip, sucks on your tongue, and grinds down against you, the telltale heat against your sheath telling you that he wants to ‘apologize’ anyway. You rest your hands on his hips and he quirks them, convincing you to grope his ass.

“Lemme make it up to you.” He whispers, lips on your ear before his teeth are, then his tongue, and you feel him shudder when you squeeze him. His voice drops to what you can only describe as a growl. “I’ve been fuckin’ wet thinking about you.” He grinds down and you whimper, imagining a growing stain of violet in the crotch of his jeans, imagining the last time he was here, with your face pressed to his nook and his feet planted on your shoulders like that’s the only reason you were allowed to touch him. He grinds down again, catching your attention. “Help me take my shirt off.”

You have no complaints about that, so you slide your fingers under his shirt, up his sides, and lean in to kiss his chest when it’s off. He pushes you back, and then he steps off of your lap and you’re worried that somehow you offended him enough to make him decide not to follow through. Before you can apologize, though, he’s kicking his jeans off and smirking.

“Get naked, stud.” He licks his lips and you rush to follow the order, watching with wide eyes when he kneels in front of you, pulling your pants down enough to bare your sheathe. He leans forward, his tongue pressing at the cleft of your sheathe and following it from end to end, his low rumble turning into a delighted purr when your bulge slithers out under his ministrations. “Fuck yeah.”

Licking your lips, your hips jerk slightly. “Th-thank you. Should I do anything?” You’re almost lost in the glittering violet of his eyes, his tongue twisting with the tip of your bulge.

“Hold my head like you’re gonna fuck my face.” He pulls your hands over and has you grip him, smiling. “Good. Now pull me in so I can suck your bulge.” He breathes, and you do, pulling him forward as delicately as you possibly can, and he opens his mouth, swallowing as your bulge slides into his throat. You force yourself not to lift your hips, your nook clenching needfully. You pull him back to let him breathe. His voice is rough when he does, and it makes you shudder. “Love having your bulge in me.” He licks it, not complaining that your hands are just petting his hair now. “Fuckin big. I could probably get off just sucking it.”

You shiver again. “Please, Cronus.” You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but he seems to.

“Shh, I got it, babe. I’ll make you feel good.” He strokes your bulge, his fingers not meeting around the base. His other hand appears covered in violet prematerial and you shudder. “See how you make me, big guy? I’ll take care of you.”

A Highblood telling you this. Your Highblood, Cronus, kissing your thighs and moving in to suck your bulge again, his fingers pushing into your nook. It makes you keen, makes you more needy than before, seeing him between your legs. Pity swells in your chest and you want to kiss him, but you don’t want to stop him. Petting his hair back from his face is enough, for now. You’ll kiss him later, when you’re both tired and needing a bath.

His hand pulls your bulge back and you gasp, whining, your hips shoving up to press against his mouth. Cronus pulls back, smiling. “You sound great, big guy. Tell me what you want.” He trails the tip of his tongue over your nook, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Anything.” You don’t have the ability to think, not clearly. “Anything is perfect.”

He purrs again, nuzzling against your thigh. The way he looks at you is so adoring it almost makes your chest ache, with these glittery violet eyes, still lovely even with the white film they have here. You’re so caught up in how pretty he is that you nearly don’t notice him speaking again.

“–Bulge is so good. Fuckin’ huge, stretches me so well.” He purrs, licking his lips. “Great. Fuckin’, so good. Love when it’s in me.”

Cronus’ lips wrap around your bulge again, a contented purr rolling through his chest and vibrating against and through your bulge. You keen, thighs twitching, and he hums, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His throat opens around your bulge and you shudder, sobbing a moan when he shoves three fingers in your nook, and you’re speaking before you even think about it.

“Thank you, thank, thank you so much, C-Cronus, thank you so much, thank–” You whine, his fingers rubbing against your globes hard enough that it makes your head spin. Under your ass, on the seat, you feel prematerial sticking your thighs to the cushion under you. Why does this always seem to happen on the couch? “It’s so good, it’s so good.”

He pulls back, grinning, and licks his lips, pulling his fingers out of you and to his mouth with a little moan, sucking on each one individually as he stands. There’s violet dripping down his thighs, his bulge wrapped around his thigh, and you spread your legs to give him access, but he presses them closed, stepping forward. “I want your bulge.”

Even if you had been thinking about moving, you stay still, only sliding your hands under his thighs to pull him into your lap so he can sink onto your bulge. He’s cold and wet and tight around you, nook fluttering as he opens for you. He stops a little way down, stroking his bulge frantic and shivery, and you know already that he just wants you to watch, At this angle, you can see the lips of his nook as he stretches. His nook is so tight, you always worry he can’t take your full bulge.

He sinks down more, groaning, and your eyes close under your hair as you lean forward, panting against his shoulder. Cronus just groans again, rolling his hips down to take you in further. Your eyes open just slightly, watching your bulge disappear inside him, and about halfway he starts whimpering, his voice pitching a few notes higher.

“Fuck me, oh god, babe, it’s fuckin’ huge, fuck yeah.” He breathes, moving faster, thighs twitching. The lips of his nook are puffy, now, and you want to lick them. “Fuck yeah, it’s so fucking big, you’re gonna fuckin’ stretch me so well, fuck yeah.”

Your hands slide to his hips and he purrs, his eyelashes fluttering over his eyes as he finally seats himself in your lap. The smooth skin of his stomach is stretched, just slightly, from your bulge inside him. One delicately fingered hand presses against the lump and he hisses, eyes narrowing and hips jerking down against yours, and you kiss him, desperate and wet, purring.

He shudders, rolling his hips again, and you move him, lift him gently with a hand under his ass and the other cupping his chin to keep him close enough to kiss. He leans on you heavily, letting you take his weight because he knows you can, and you shuffle down, thrusting up against him while your hold keeps him steady. He breathes against your neck, his voice high and soft.

“Keep fuckin’ me, god, Darkleer.” He kisses your jaw, your mouth when you turn, only pulling away when he needs to breathe, leaving your lips tasting like his moans. “So fuckin’ big, love this, love you.” He sucks in a sharp breath, knees digging into your sides as his legs try to close. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna spill!” He pushes back against you, meeting each thrust with his own movements. “I’m coming, I’m, keep fuckin’ me, fuck!”

You keep moving, but slower, as he spills, violet dripping onto your stomach as he keens, shuddering over and around you. His nook pulls you in to the base, trying to milk your material out, and you drag your tongue over his gills, those gorgeous purple slits that make him twist and snarl and grind into you. You keep teasing them as he bucks, snarling to move, claws at your hornbases, and even keep it up as you flip him onto his back. When you pull his legs up, knees at his fins, you have to stop, unfortunately, but his bulge is writhing again and he’s shivering with little noises that make your mouth water.

“Spill in me.” He purrs, stroking down the side of your cheek. “Fuckin’ fill me up, Darkleer.”

How would you even begin to say no to your superior on an order like that? If there is a way, you don’t know it. He practically melts into the couch as you pail him, not yet close enough to really think about following it but enjoying the ride. He licks his lips, fingers moving to stroke at the edges of his nook. At this angle, you can see how stretched they are around you, smeared with material that almost looks indigo, from your colors mixing.

His nook is so tight, wet and gripping your bulge like it owes his nook money, and it’s all you can do to thrust in him and not just plant yourself in him as deep as you can and stay there until the end of your unlife. It’s already so good, and then your bulge twists, finding that sweet spot inside him and shoves into his seedflap.

Cronus screams, back arching, gills and fins flaring, his toes even curl, and you shiver all over as your bulge tip is swallowed into another massaging channel, tighter than his nook. Your thoughts flash for an instant to mammals, to breeding, to claiming like you could own a highblood like him, and then you’re back, pailing him slower and deeper than before. He doesn’t scream every time you get into his flap, most of the time he just twitches and his eyes go unfocused, but every few thrusts you slam forward and he screams again, his lips pulled back in a wide grin, his hands pulling you closer, always closer, even when you’re as close as you can possibly be.

Cronus’ second orgasm always seems to catch him off guard, his eyes getting wide and his smile falling apart as he croons, twitching in your hands as his bulge dribbles just a little more material onto himself. He fists a hand in your hair and you move down to kiss him with no complaints, purring, still grinding against him. At this angle, you can feel even more of your bulge in his seedflap.

He sucks on your tongue when you pull back, but doesn’t complain. “You’re so fuckin’ deep, I can’t breathe, it’s so much.” He presses at your bulge through his skin, shuddering. “Keep going. Keep fuckin’ me.”

“Yes.” You breathe, kissing him again. “I love you, highblood, Cronus.” He glows, and your pusher aches a little. “I adore you. I’d die a thousand times to find you again.”

A shift of his hips and you lose your train of thought, all other sappy, heartfelt truths leaving your head as you move again, slower and deeper. His bulge has retracted, his nook is swollen and sensitive looking, and you’re so close. You don’t need to rush, though, you just roll against him, his legs fitting around your waist perfectly and your hands smoothing down his shaking form.

“Gorgeous.” A little whisper, needy in your own way for him to speak. “So gorgeous, Cronus.”

His eyes look lovely in his flushed face, his hair a mess that you wish he’d never fix and his fins flooded with violet blood and looking so vibrant you can only compare them to fresh paintings in the clown compound. “Almost as much as you, big guy.” He sounds hoarse and sleepy and pleased, and you feel like you’ve been given the highest praise you could ever ask for, not even from the words as much as the tone.

You can’t speak, so you kiss him, whimper against his lips as your hips move faster and the tension building from the base of your spine to the tips of your horns snaps, material pouring into his nook. He arches his back, pressing his hips against yours and not letting you move, claws bit into your ass to keep you completely still as you fill him. His seedflap expands, and you only marvel a bit at how much there is; seedflaps aren’t especially large, after all. His swells with your material until it can’t, until the skin stretched over it has a faint b100 tint, and only then does your bulge start to retract.

Cronus doesn’t let you pull back until your bulge has completely retracted, his moans melting into soft little coos, and you pull away followed by a slight stream of material onto your floor, but you can’t stop watching him, looking blissed out and rubbing at the lips of his nook as they recover their shape, his other hand on the lump of his seedflap under his skin. Gorgeous.

You drop to your knees before you even think about it, kissing the lump there and his hips, which he shifts in a way you know means they’re aching now, soothing your tongue over the fingerprint bruises on his hips, nuzzling against his grubscars and gills adoringly. All the while, you keep telling him how lovely he is, how lucky you are to have his favor, how much you outright adore him.

Eventually, though, you do need to stop. Cronus is slurring, his hands in your hair not to guide you but to pet and soothe and just feel, so you know he’s exhausted. You stand, pausing at every spot of any interest (of which there are many) and kiss them, working in a slow, equally sleepy trail up his body. It’s enthralling how he goes so relaxed under you, how easily he trusts you not to crush him on accident.

He whines a little when you pick him up, but reassures you quickly that he’s just a little sore from the activity, not from you being too rough, and kisses you a few times to make sure his point gets across. You should stay up to clean up the mess, but you find yourself sinking into the slime with him, peppering kisses on the side of his neck and purring so loudly you almost can’t hear him to tell him that you love him, too.

In the morning, or evening, or whenever you remember to wake up, you’ll make him something to eat and ask him why he was gone so long, now that he’s “paid you back”.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more of this? it was a surprisingly fun dynamic!  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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